


Poison

by frogfarm



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-22
Updated: 2008-02-22
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow thinks she wants relationship advice. Faith thinks otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poison

**Author's Note:**

> Post-"The Wish", pre-"Amends". Not part of the [Faith the Vampire Slayer](http://frogfarm.livejournal.com/47732.html) 'verse.

The last time Willow was in Giles' office without permission was when she absconded with his most secret notebooks. This is easier, at least in theory; she's just checking his card catalog, not taking a thing except a copy of a number in her head. She almost makes the call from the office, but Wesley comes back early and she barely makes it out of the library, let alone through the rest of the day.

Her mother's typing reports at the kitchen table when Willow comes home, sneaks upstairs and shuts her bedroom door, quiet as a mouse. The dialtone is a welcome relief when she picks up the phone, but she forces herself to punch the numbers in nice and slow. If only Buffy wasn't being emotionally unavailable, forcing her hand --

"Yo."

"Faith?"

"Who's -- oh." The Slayer's suspicion doesn't vanish so much as fade to a neutral boredom. "What's up?"

What's up is telling herself she can do casual. That there's nothing to be nervous about; that all she wants is -- "Could you meet me somewhere?"

"What for?" Faith's suspicion ratchets to borderline paranoid.

"I kind of wanted to talk."

"They got nine hundred numbers for that, and why the hell are you whisperin'?" Faith sounds like she's sussed it all out, and it's not a happy place. "You don't wanna be seen with me, you don't have to be with me --"

"No! Nothing like that. I just figured both of us would be more comfortable on...neutral ground. Some place that isn't your place or mine. Or the Bronze," she quickly adds.

Amazingly, Faith doesn't follow up the opportunity for entendre. Still suspicious, the Slayer agrees to meet at the park by the woods.

This is too easy.

 

**

 

She's sitting on the end of a bench when Faith comes striding up, ten minutes late, dressed to the nines in the pride and joy that is her black leather. The Slayer stands there as Willow grows more nervous, thinks that Chucks and jeans and a denim jacket don't really convey the confident, capable image she was striving for.

Faith lifts one shoulder, both hands still in her pockets. "You want me to sit down or what?"

"If you want to."

Faith shrugs, sprawls in the opposite corner, one foot up on the bench. Willow tries to collect her thoughts, but apparently she's taking too long.

"Dullsville," Faith pronounces. She stands back up, setting off at a good pace. "Let's move."

Willow scrambles to her feet and follows. "Yes. Walking is good, it provides exercise and oxygen. To the brain," _and other parts of the body_ and suddenly she's terrified she said it out loud.

Faith gives her a sideways glance. "So, whatcha need?"

Willow envisions herself at the near-apex of a hill, treading gravity as she pedals up and over that final inch.

"Advice."

Faith doesn't stop in her tracks, but regards Willow with a face of stone. "You're shittin' me."

"And if you were about to ask _advice on what_ can you please first just let me explain and ask whatever i'm gonna ask as soon as i can think of a question?" Willow tries not to feel faint as she inhales deeply.

Faith actually seems to notice her discomfort, stops just long enough to her regain breath before proceeding. They're heading deeper into the woods.

Willow takes silence as consent. "It's about Oz."

"Oh -- Wolfboy. Right." Faith nods with authority. "Heard you were gettin' some on the side."

"W-what?" Willow feels a little afraid. Maybe more angry. "Who said --"

"Jeez, lighten up." Faith looks moderately troubled before shrugging it off.

"Cordelia came into the library lookin' all banged up. Asked her about it and she blew me off." The Slayer allows herself a tiny smile of grim satisfaction. "I got Giles to spill."

"Giles?" Willow hates sounding flabbergasted. "How did he -- who told him?"

Faith's face scrunches in an expression of puzzlement Willow would describe as _cute_ only in the safety of her mind.

"Didn't ask. Does it matter?"

"I guess it doesn't." Willow manages not to sound too mournful.

"Damn right," Faith nods. "Only question you should be askin' is -- was he worth it?"

"Who?"

"Big Z." Faith says it like it's self-evident. Frowns at the lack of recognition, sighs like Willow's slow. "Xander?"

"No! I mean --" The flustered is back. "First, it's an X. As in Alex. And I dont want Xander that way. Or -- maybe I do, but I love Oz --"

"So you're askin' me for advice?" Faith shakes her head. "Think that big brain of yours is on the fritz."

Willow doesn't respond.

"Can see why you didn't go to B, though. Girl's one big tragedy."

"I just figured -- you've probably had a lot of boyfriends...I mean --" Willow trails off, thinking there is no way she didn't just call this girl a slut.

"Boy toys, maybe. Friends?" Faith snorts, takes a casual punch at a tree as they walk past. "Not on your life."

Willow wants very much to say this sounds kind of lonely. If she didn't think it would earn her a quick slap. Except Faith is looking at her again, up and down, casual appraisal turning to a slow, calculating grin.

"That what this is about?" Faith abruptly stops and turns, forcing Willow up against a tree.

Willow starts to say _Pretty sure not_ but it comes out wrong from the start, in this high-pitched pathetic whimper; Faith's arms are on either side, boxing her in as the Slayer leans in and trails her lips over Willow's neck, boobs press together in mutual greeting and maybe some part of her did foresee something like this but she never thought, never dreamed it's too soon and what if she doesn't want rough fingers sliding up her inseam hard enough to make her grip the bark of the tree, freeze in anticipation and fear --

Then Faith is stepping back, her face once more a mask.  
  
"Just a thought." The gritty, teasing edge is gone. "Maybe there's a girl out there for ya, but -- it ain't me."

She watches Faith walk away, leans against the tree for support until her legs quit wobbling.

Her skin still burns hours later as she scrubs her face in the bathroom, stares in the mirror until Sheila knocks on the door, demanding to hear that everything is all right with her only daughter. Willow goes to bed early, and for the first time in years she's afraid to go to school the next day.

But Faith is nowhere to be found.

 

**


End file.
